


5 times Hermione wasn't paying attention

by cleopatrasbigneedle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry Potter, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Curse Breaker Harry Potter, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Secret Relationship, very very very light - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleopatrasbigneedle/pseuds/cleopatrasbigneedle
Summary: Harry Potter loves his old house, and is starting to love a bloke that loves his house too. Malfoy and his house get on like old friends, and Harry's best friends like to pop by because they hate his house and really, Harry just needs to tell his friends that he is sleeping with Malfoy before Ron and Hermione turn up to find Harry and Malfoy listening to old records and reading banned books in Harry's favorite sitting room.Or5 times Harry subconsciously tries to tell Hermione he was sleeping with Malfoy and the one time he didn't have to.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 305





	5 times Hermione wasn't paying attention

One

Malfoy is an opulent bastard that likes nice things. Harry does not begrudge him his nice things, so he tries not to say anything when Malfoy disses his possessions.

"Potter!" The shout comes from the ensuite bathroom attached to his bedroom. Steam billows out of the cracked door. "What is the thread count in these robes? They are horrifying! Invest in your comfort, you have the money Lord Potter-Black!"

This is a sentiment he hears, and he understands it for what it is: 'take care of yourself Potter, I can't be worrying about you only eating crisps when I am not here'.

The next time Harry is out, getting fitted for robes for a ball that 'requires' his presence, he enquires about silk robes with heating charms. When the robes arrive by owl the next day he feels embarrassed for spending so much money on something for Malfoy. This embarrassment is washed away when the poncey bastard slinks out of the bathroom the following week, wrapped in a silver, silk robe with a dragon emblem on, and elegantly drops to his knees.

After, Malfoy's eyes say thank you, but his lips are red, spit covered, and smirking.

"If I knew it was that easy to wear you down, I would have started calling you 'Lord' sooner."

Harry brushes his thumb over the corner of Malfoy's lip, before pushing his thumb into that taunting mouth. 

"You missed some, my- what do I call the Lord's bed boy? Just my slut?"

After that the robe comes off, and later Harry doesn't even think about putting it away, even though he is at some level conscious that Hermione and Ron are coming by for brunch tomorrow, and the fact that Hermione refuses to use any of the bathroom's other than his because of weird house elf décor doesn't really seem important. 

"Ron?'

"Yes dearest," Ron replies absently, very concentrated on the dish he was trying to prepare.

"Did you know that Harry wears silk robes? I saw one in his bedroom."

"Hmm maybe he's snogging some ritzy girl, dunno."

"Right, oh Ron! That smells really good, what's in it?"

“Since when do you like spicy food?”

Two

Draco Malfoy has been overall resistant to muggle technology but having a lover (or whatever the thing that has been going on with them is) that grew up in the muggle world sometimes makes this hard. The brute like to take fistfuls of his hair and yank during sex, which is a good idea in the moment but leads to very unfortunate knotting of the hair later. Draco is convinced that he does this on purpose because he also takes great joy in delicate and painstakingly brushing, Draco lying on his chest in a half propped up position. Draco's hair reaches past his shoulder and he suspects Potter is more than a little obsessed. Draco has stopped complaining that he could just use a spell because he likes the feeling of being taken care of, especially after Potter still fucks him like he hates Draco's guts, literally. And of course Draco loves the sex, but lying on a strong warm chest, well Draco has always been a heat seeking creature.

"Why don't you use rubber bands to put your hair up?" Potter mutters softly, to no wake Draco up if he is already asleep, sleep between them, well it is precious. 

"What? And look like a muggle plebeian? Honestly it is like you do know m- ahhh-" Draco's half hearted tirade is cut short when the bastard pulls his hair, hard.

The next time Draco finds himself with his hair being brushed like a princess by the nation Chosen One, Potter has a white hair band around his wrist, and Draco doesn't argue when Potter plats his platinum hair and finishes it with the hair band. The next day Draco has mildly wavy hair, and it makes him smile, when no one is looking.

After that it only gets worse, Potter will wear 'scrunchies' on wrist and tie Draco's hair up whenever he gets the chance. In the kitchen, when Draco trying to showing him the proper way to make a French tart, Potter pressed against him, pushing Draco's front into the counter, ghosting his big, strong, capable hands up Draco's sides, his neck, and then fast as a devil, twisting his hair in to a knot on the top of his head with a velvet green monstrosity. 

"Continue sweetheart, I'm listening," Potter says into Draco's ear before pressing butterfly kisses down the side of his throat.

"Ahh-hmp as I was saying, it isn't a pinch tart, it's a..."

"Harry, say what is that?" Harry is startled out of thinking about Malfoy, mentally chastising himself to be more present while he is with his best friends, by Ginny Weasley, who is looking at him strangely.

It takes him a moment to respond, because, well Ginny looks radiant, and he doesn't even feel a twinge of interest. After the dry spell, the fighting, and then the break up, Harry used to find himself wishing that he could go beg to make it right. It would be so perfect, he would be a Weasley, for real. But then he followed Ginny's gaze to his wrist, where lo and behold, he was wearing a silver velvet scrunchie that he had taken out of Malfoy's hair when they had caught up in passing, well taken out is a light word, Harry had yanked it, and then Draco's hair and through the haze of a passionate kiss, he had forgotten to take it off or put it back in his lover's hair.

All he could come up with is; "It's not mine."

Ginny quirked a beautiful brow and Harry felt his dark skin heat, his pink ears, thankfully hidden behind his mess of wavy hair.

"She must be pretty special if she got you carrying around her scrunchies," Ginny said at the exact moment Hermione came over to them, bringing their drinks, a water for herself, and the party noise. 

Harry thinks maybe Hermione misses Ginny's little jab, and is glad to see Ginny drifting away from him and toward Neville.

Hermione says "Might be a bit too soon for Gin to meet the mystery girl of yours, but I would love to meet her."

And Harry almost laughed. the thought of Hermione Granger wanting to meet Draco Malfoy outside of a very professional smile and wave, and as Harry's something, lover, boyfriend, just friends, was comically.

"I don't know how well you two would get on to be completely honestly 'Mione," but Harry was smiling uselessly at the thought of how nervous Malfoy would be about having tea with Hermione and Ron. He needs to tell them, but first he needs to tell them he is bisexual, and depending on how they react, then ease them into the idea that the man he might be fucking, dating, whatevering, is Malfoy. 

"Is that so? Why ever would you think that?" Hermione looked hurt.

"Never mind, let's dance!" And so Harry led his best friends (after snagging Ron from conversation with a fit looking coworker of his) and headed for the dance floor of the newest magical club in London, where it is too loud to talk. 

Three

"Honestly, it's like you're not listening!" 

"Malfoy, what is it that I am listening to? Please explain yourself."

"You can not, under any circumstance, put that renaissance piece in the music lounge."

"It is actually my house, so I can, but why can't I put it in my favorite study? It looks comfortable."

"Your 'study', the green parlor that has the muggle records in it is decorated in the baroque style, with baroque paintings. Thus we need a beautiful yet comfortable baroque chaise."

"And this is not, to be clear, a baroque chaise."

"By Jove and Morgana, I am leaving and you can pick the chair out yourself!"

Harry reaches out and grabs Draco, hard enough to show that he wants him to stay but not so hard Draco can't shake him off if he is really upset. When Draco doesn't resist, Harry puts with front to Draco's back, and rests his chin on Draco's shoulder.

"Will you help me find an appropriate baroque chaise for the green parlor?" He kisses Draco's neck softly, for good measure.

Draco nuzzles against Harry and agrees. If Harry knew that Draco felt so strongly about the chair he never would have even attempted to pick it himself.

They find a lovely chaise in the baroque style and make their way through the labyrinth of the vintage magical furniture store that Draco adores.

"Alright mate! This is a banging chair, love the deal, its new innit? Love, what do you think about one 'renaissance chair for the house?"

Ron and Hermione are over for brunch, which then turned into tea, which will probably turn to dinner.

'Baroque," Harry remarks nonsensically, reading the Quidditch part of the Daily Prophet.

"Whatcha say mate? Love the color too!"

Harry looks up sharply, his mind catching up to his mouth. Hermione is already looking at him strangely.

"It's a chaise in the um baroque style," his throat feels dry, he swallows and continues. "The room, the green parlor is a baroque room, the purple parlor on the third floor is an Edwardian Era room, they were built at different times and the house can sometimes reject magical furniture if it doesn't have the period appropriate spells." Jesus Harry had just word vomited a Draco tirade he hadn't realized he had been paying attention to.

"Oh, right of course. Your bedroom is more impressionistic." Hermione offered, looking proud, but distraught, maybe proudly distraught.

No, that was just Draco.

"I'm bisexual!"

Silence. A picture of surprise, then a picture of domestic bliss, Hermione and Ron, conversing with each other, only through eye contact, or maybe they had mastered the art of mind reading.

"Well, mate, that's great, so happy you told us."

It feels sincere but it also feels practiced.

"You knew?"

"Ginny, she uh well she said," Ron was trying but he got red, redder.

"Well she told us, well she told me and I told Ron, but she thought you might be gay, because well--"

"Oh my god!"

"Harry, she needed someone to talk, I don't think--"

"My then girlfriend told my best friends that we weren't having sex because I couldn't get it up for her. Not that is really any of her business or yours but I was just depressed, and she was just not who I needed, it wasn't because she is a girl. Yes I am seeing a therapist, no I do not have erectile dysfunction."

"Okay, good to know. I am proud of you. And while we are doing announcements, Harry I’m pregnant."

“What! That’s amazing! I don’t even know you guys were trying… To be clear I am still upset, okay?” Harry hugs Hermione and Ron fiercely.

Four

Harry finally masters the French tart Draco taught him to make. Draco knows he will wake up to the smell of strawberries and butter, but that also means not waking up next to Harry. 

Draco finally pulls himself out of bed, Harry's bed, and looks around the room he helped decorate. He picked his favorite impressionists from the Black art collection for Harry's room, the light, the flowers, the hope. It makes Draco sad that there aren't any impressionism paintings with people that look like Harry, beautiful dark skin, hair, and emerald eyes, that no one would have painted them together, in a marketplace, Draco looking soft or the first time in his life, and Harry holding flowers for Draco. Fuck, Draco could never recover from Harry deciding that he needs a proper lover, a woman, a ginger, a non Ex-Death Eater. His eyes fill, stupidly, and he puts on the silk robe Harry got just for him, reaches up to undo the intricate braid that Harry did, putting the scrunchie on his wrist. That makes his eyes fill more. It's just because it's Sunday, a day where Harry will spend time with his family, the Weasleys, usually Andromeda Tonks, and Teddy Lupin. His father is in Azkaban, his mother is in France. His friends are all far away, and they only get together every third month.

At his rapid approach, Harry turns his way with an easy warm smile, which crumples upon seeing Draco's now wet face.

"Baby what's wrong?" Fuck he must look awful if Harry is calling him baby. He is trying desperately to smother his tears in Harry's neck, silent raw tears. Harry just holds him and lets him be whatever he needs while in Harry's arms. It feels like months before the tears give way to hiccups, and then tremors.

"I don't have to go today," Harry whispers evenly, sweetly, calmly.

Draco jerks back, as if slapped.

"I will not be the boyfriend that stops you from seeing your family, just because I am having a moment, you will resent me, just give time," Draco says, still choppily.

"My family would want me to be where I am most needed, and if that is with you, then so be it. You are not having 'just a moment' your feelings are valid, and they mean so much to me. Do you hear me?" Harry reaches out and cups Draco's flushed face.

'You're too good, you're golden and I feel like it will paralyze me.  
Harry reaches forward, and kisses his nose.

"You're so brilliant, sometimes I feel drunk on your words. You are good, better than most, it's easy to be good when you are born into it, but having to find good on your own, by yourself, you are the golden one here."

"So that thing I said---"

"Am I really your boyfriend? Draco Malfoy are we courting?"

"Shut up and shower with me, can not be late to the clan meeting, can you?"

"Harry, darling! These tarts are amazing! And the wine to go with, incredible. When did you become such a foodie?"

"Oh I can't claim all the credit, a friend taught me how to make it, and honestly the wine was a strong suggestion, I'll pass along the compliments Molly."

"Or you could just bring her next time?” Molly says, innocently, too innocently.

“I’ll think about,” Harry says, looking to Hermione for help.

“We have an announcement! We’re having a baby!”

Thank fuck for Hermione.

Five

These are Draco’s favorite times, reading with Harry, his boyfriend. Harry’s attention can get fractured and impatient if he doesn’t grasp a magical concept, so sometimes Draco will read something out loud to him, over and over, until he gets it. They drink expensive muggle wine, listen to old muggle records, and have meaningful discourse on magical theory, something Harry had always told himself he wasn’t smart enough for, but Draco reversed this thought, as they discusses innovative spells for curse breaking, the area in which they both specialized, though in slightly different ways. Harry was given objects and told to make them safe, as they could not be destroyed outright, and just storing them was dangerous. He labored over an object, liking the puzzle and the challenge, and stripped the layers of magic back. It isn’t what people thought he would do, but he honestly doesn’t care. Draco does fixed points of curses, so buildings and things too big to be taken back to Harry’s workshop. This small overlap in their fields of work is how they reconciled, and became what they are now. The only downside is that Draco gets pulled away from Harry at odd times, like right now.

A Patronus finds them cuddled up, sipping wine, and sweetly arguing over the merits of wand use in imperial wizarding society. Draco jumps up, kisses Harry in an overly domestic way, and is gone. And not a moment too soon it seems, as Hermione and Ron are suddenly in the house, he can feel them in the wards, and they are heading up, to where they now he will be, his favorite study.

Harry is so overwhelmingly grateful that his friends have just spared him from a night of melancholy without Draco that he forgets about to very telling sets of things, two wine glasses, to sets of slippers by the couch, and two, very, very banned books about cannibalistic blood rituals that Draco and him had been reading out of morbid curiosity. That was until Hermione stopped short in the open door way, and looking around, maybe for the person that should also be here. Muddy Waters was still playing on the record player, the newest piece of technology that the house tolerated in this room. 

“Oh, are we interrupting?” Hermione says, almost hopefully.

“Nope, just missed him, work call,” Harry answers honestly.

And even with coming out and even with Ron and Hermione and the whole Weasley Clan knowing that Harry was seeing someone, this answer still shocked them for a second.

“Let me get this straight, you Harry James Potter, were having a night in and reading? Was this a date? What were you reading?”

“Wait Hermione, don’t---”

Too late.

“A dark wizard? Are you necking a dark wizard Harry?”

“It was purely for professional purposes, we are both curse breakers,” Harry says, now dishonest. How was he to explain their intellectual debates about things that were completely illegal.

“Okay, I see I guess,” Hermione looks like she has all the pieces to a puzzle but doesn’t know what the picture on the box looks like.

“Okay, anyway mate, we just popped over to talk about baby names and maybe---”

“Yes okay lets, I will go get some tea,” Harry broke in, already grabbing the now empty wine glasses.

+1

Draco Malfoy is in stupid bloody love with Harry Potter, there is just no way around it. Two months ago, Draco invited him along to Snake Club (coined after Pansy came back from America having watched Fight Club) and Harry had the good grace to not be too nice to all of his friends. They got absolutely hammered and Blaise Zabini had told his boyfriend that if he ever needed help with any nefarious plots, the Snake Club would have his back. Harry roared with laughter, and gave Pansy, Blaise, Millicent, and Goyle a kiss on the cheek good night.

Now, Draco was snogging Harry Potter, the man that had charmed his friends, and new what he needed to do. He needed to make nice with Granger and Weasley so that they could all lead a charmed life where they pretended they never wanted to kill each other because he had fallen in love with their best friend. The opportunity came way sooner than expected when Harry left to his workshop and Draco stayed home, he basically lived with Harry, though the manor was his home, and he loved it, Harry and him had talked about turning it into some sort summer school for muggle born students to go to before Hogwarts, and also a magical orphanage year round. He would need to hire staff and get it kid proofed, and so many other things that it started to give him a headache. He was in their favorite study, the baroque one, reading about structures of wizarding governments around the world, in his silver silk robe, with his hair tied up in a neat bun that Harry had put there, along with a couple of hickeys, decorating Draco’s pale skin, sipping tea, when he heard voices, coming toward him. He grabbed his wand, but he already knew he wasn’t going to use it. Because you really must make a good impression on the love of your life’s closest friends.

“Harry we have the best new-- Oh! You’re not Harry,” Hermione had started talking before taking in the statuesque view of Draco, in his opulence on a beautiful baroque lounge chaise, reading a beautiful looking book.

“Astute observation, I would expect no less from the brightest of our age,” Draco said, it was wistful and amused not mean.

“I am a wee bit confused, Malfoy, what are you doing here? I mean you definitely look like you belong but--”

Draco set down his book and his tea and rose. 

“Ah yes, explanations. I am in love with Harry Potter, and as such, I am afraid there is just no getting rid of me. Now allow me to go put some clothes on and then we can have a proper sit down about this.”

And with that, Draco moved soundly out of the study and into Harry’s bedroom, well his bedroom.

Hermione and Ron take a seat and look at each other, they really look for a long moment.

“OH!” They say mutual understanding.

“Fifth year.”

“Sixth year.”

“Battle of Hogwarts.”

“That fucking robe.”

“That’s the scrunchie Ginny was harping about.”

“French tarts.”

“Books and wine dates.”

“Ahem, well I’m glad I don’t have to spell it out for you two,” Draco Malfoy says, reappearing fully clothed in an expensive tailored suit reminiscent of waist coats.

He sits and pours more tea for them.

“Any other questions?” Draco hedges, trying to start the conversation.

“How long has this been going on?” Ron askes, jovially.

“About a year,” Draco replies, tentatively, “but officially dating for just 4 months now.”

“Men,” Hermione groans.

This is when Harry decides to enter, Draco isn’t surprised he didn’t stay too long at the workshop, he probably had just one new spell to try out, and it was a Saturday.

“Draco, dear, someone has tracked mud in your house, are you disposing of their body now?” Came a shouted question from outside the room and down the hallway.

Ron looked as if in slow motion at his dirty, muddy shoes.

Harry enters stage right, and goes violently quiet.

“Well, light of my life, if I knew you would have let me get away with killing your best friend so easily, I might have considered it.”

“Hermione, Ron hello.” Harry said, as if he had never met any of them.

Draco got up and crossed the room to stand in front of Harry.

“It is past time they know, and I am doing really well so far, I think they really like me,” Draco said, loud enough for their audience to hear.

Draco a kiss on Harry’s cheek and said, as if it was any other day “How was the workshop, did the spell you were working on work?”

“Right, so you should definitely bring him to Sunday's meal okay? I can’t wait to see everyone’s face.”


End file.
